


Blood Connections Prologue

by Luthorchickv2



Series: Blood Connections [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lestrade as Sherlock's father, Non Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:50:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthorchickv2/pseuds/Luthorchickv2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gregory Lestrade has a non-consensual encounter with a married Mummy Holmes when he is 17. 25 years later Greg meets Mycroft Holmes and his 24 year old half brother Sherlock. Will he let bonds of blood keep him from being happy? How can he hide a secret this big from the young man who would become the world’s only consulting detective?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Connections Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: I blame this entirely on watching Room with A View, Maurice and The Graduate all within a week. Greg, here is a little Alec mixed in with a little Freddy. This wasn’t meant to be dark. It was supposed to be a consensual experience but that’s not how the story wrote itself. This is the darkest thing I have ever written. Non/Con. Lestrade is 17 so that might be underage.
> 
> Note 2: This part of a series that will eventually be slash. I am planning on it being John/Sherlock definitely and most likely Mycroft/Lestrade which might be a little squicky for some.
> 
> Note 3: I can’t write sex scenes so if someone wants to write this scene, please let me know.
> 
> Note 4: I'm not sure how this will go over. It made sense in my head.

1980

Part 1:

Gregory Lestrade straightened up from where he was kneeling in the garden and wiped a dirty hand over his sweaty brown leaving a streak of dirt over a chocolate brown eye. It was hot this summer, one of the hottest on record and he was stuck here on the Holmes estate, weeding their perfectly planned out garden. He was seventeen, all his mates were currently enjoying their summer holiday, relaxing before Uni started, and he was here knees deep in manure like he had been for the last four summers.

He started working for Lord and Lady Holmes when he was fourteen, working during the summers while the family was away on holiday. His uncle had a position at the Hall, Head Gardner and had acquired a summer position for Greg after his parents had written. Every summer for the past four he would arrive at the Hall the day after the Holmes’s left for the summer and would toil away in the gardens pulling up weeds and watering lawns until term started again. This would be the last summer he worked here before he left for Uni and he was glad for it.

It’s not that he minded the hard work, not really, but there was something about the Holmes family and the class difference that didn’t sit right with him. He had been instructed on the proper way of address the members of the family and it stuck on his craw to have to address a boy four years younger then he as ‘Young Master Holmes’. He didn’t even know the boy’s first name. It didn’t really matter as the family was gone by the time he arrived and he was gone before they came back but still. Only a couple of weeks left before Uni began.

“Oi, Greg, finish that patch and you’re free to go.” His uncle popped his head over the hedge holding up his pocket watch. Greg had been so stuck in his thoughts and the automatic repetition of pulling weeds and placing them in a bag that he had lost track of time.

“Yeah. Right, just about there. Lord it’s hot.” Greg stood and stretched his arms over his head, letting his work shirt come un-tucked and ride up.

“I might go for a walk before dinner. Stretch out my legs a little.” He glanced at his uncle.

“In this wretched weather? Suit yourself. Be back in time to wash up for dinner, Mary’s making a roast.” His uncle waved as he headed off to the groundskeeper’s cottage where he and his wife lived and where Greg was staying. Greg rolled his head from side to side letting his hair fall into his face. It was getting long, he thought, he’d have to cut it soon. He stared at the few remaining weeds and couldn’t bring himself to bend down again. It could wait until tomorrow, he decided. He left the bag of weeds by the kitchen entrance to the Hall to be put out with the rubbish before setting off across the grounds.

The dry water-starved grass crackled under his feet as he strolled past the lawn and into the cool shade of the woods. The shade cut some of the humidity but he still sweated. His hair clung damp to his forehead, wet strands hanging over his eyes. He continued further into the woods letting his muscles stretch and contract, using his them in a way that he didn’t get a chance to when he was bent over pulling weeds out of the ground.

Sometime later he came across a large pond that looked cool and inviting. He had come across it a couple summers ago and had never once seen anyone near it. Which was why he didn’t hesitate before stripping off the work shirt and shucking off his trousers and pants, leaving all his clothes in a pile on the bank. He, grinning, flung himself into the cool welcoming water. Blessed relief spread though him as he submerged his body, letting the water flow over him, soothing his sore muscles. A few strokes in and he could no longer to the silty ground and was happy to let his lower half float up until he was floating on the surface.

He had been floating for a while and was pleasantly relaxed and content when a female throat cleared itself.

Greg jerked his head up, lost his equilibrium on the water and sunk. He surfaced sputtering and swearing.

“God damn it.” He choked out, trying to cough up the water he had unintentionally inhaled while simultaneously trying to wipe the water out of his eyes. When his vision cleared he saw a woman standing on the bank. She was tall, slender, with shoulder length blond hair pulled back at the sides and was wearing full cream colored linen pants, with a loose white linen top. She carried a pastel pink jacket crooked on one finger hooked over her left shoulder.

She was older then he and beautiful. It was too far away to make out the features of her face but the posh clothing and his memory of pictures he had seen the couple of times he had been to the Hall clued him into to who she was. He struggled to remember how to address her and stumbled until he finally just blurted something out.

“My Lady Holmes!” He exclaimed, tried to bow and ended up face first in the water again.

“Are you all right out there? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. I tried stomping on the ground but you didn’t hear me.” Her voice was soft and concerned.

He flailed in the water trying to sort his thoughts.

“My Lady, we thought you and the Baron would be gone until next week.” He inched forward to try to get purchase on the bottom of the pond.

“My husband decided that he and my son could use a little father –son bonding time. I was sent home ahead of them, leaving them to cavort in Paris” Her voice had a bitter bite in it and her mouth sneered at the phrase ‘Father-son bonding time’.

“I didn’t know anyone else came out here and had thought I was quite alone but I saw the pile of clothes.” She gestured to the pile and he flushed remembering where he was and what he was wearing.

She chuckled but didn’t directly address the source of his embarrassment. She walked over to the edge of the bank and delicately perched on a large rock there.

“You are employed at the Hall? Lestrade’s nephew, are you not?” She inquired while reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Yes Ma’am. My name is Gregory Lestrade.” He replied as he edged further towards the bank while trying to remain under the cover of the water.

She shook a cigarette out, placed it in her mouth, reached back into her pocket and brought out a matchbook.

“My husband doesn’t like it when I smoke, so naturally, I do it whenever I am out of his sight.” She said around the cigarette.

Greg watched enthralled as she struck the match, and brought to her lips. She was so graceful, so elegant. Her chest rose as she closed her eyes and inhaled. From here he could make out the details of her face, the soft looking cheeks, the thin cupids-bow mouth, the lines around her gray blue eyes.

“So Gregory,” she paused “Or is it Greg?”

He shrugged and tried to think of a delicate way to say piss off to his employer so he could get out of the increasing cold water and get dressed. The sun barely brushed the tops of the trees and the temperature was falling.

“Greg, then. So Greg,” She started again. “You’re what sixteen, seventeen?”

“Seventeen Ma’am, nearly eighteen.” She flicked the ash off of the end of her cigarette and brought it to her lips.

“Any plans to attend a University?” She asked around an exhalation of smoke.

“Yes Ma’am” He was starting to shiver and thought ‘fuck it’.

“Ma’am, it’s getting kind of chilly.” He started, hoping she’d take a hint.

“Yes, I suppose.” She showed no signs of moving.

“Ma’am, I’d like to get out of the water now.” Her brow wrinkled and he thought he could see a playful smile flit across her mouth before straightening.

“So why don’t you?” She flicked the end of the cigarette again.

“Ma’am” He blushed and forced the next part out. “All my clothes are on the bank, Ma’am.”

“Ah, so you are nude? Well, I have a husband and a son. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He bit back the reply ‘but not mine’ and just sent her a pleading look.

She chuckled and shifted to turn her back to him.

“Oh, all right. I promise to keep my back to you as you get out of the water.” He waited until she was fully facing the other direction before making a mad sprint to the bank.

He hauled himself out of the water and rushed to his clothes. He didn’t care about getting them wet he just wanted them on. He was so wrapped up in pulling on his pants and then trousers and that he didn’t hear her move until she was right behind him.

He was still buttoning his fly when he felt her soft hands rest on his bare shoulders.

He jumped. “Ma’am?” He frowned at her. There was no way she hadn’t seen him naked.

She smirked at him before bending to pick up his shirt, letting her blouse fall forward and giving him a view of the tops of her breasts and the edge of a white lace bra.

“I promised to keep my back to you as you got out of the water. I never promised to keep it turned once you got out, but don’t worry, you have nothing to be ashamed of, I bet all the girls in school flocked to you.” Flustered, he reached for his shirt, just wanting to get out of there.

He was about the grab the shirt from her when she stepped back with it jerking it away from him.

“Ma’am, I need my shirt.” The way she was staring at him made him very nervous.

She held it in front of her and stared at it.

“Seems like such a waste” She said softly.

“What does?” He was contemplating just leaving her with the shirt and fleeing to the safety of his uncle’s house. It was getting cold and dark and Aunt Mary was probably laying dinner on the table now.

“Letting you put on that shirt when I am only going to take it right back off of you, because you see, I mean to have you in my bed tonight, Greg.” She purred.

He stumbled back, because while yes she was beautiful, she was also a married woman and his employer.

“Lady Holmes” He began.

“Tessa.” She interrupted.

“What?”

“My name is Tessa.” She smiled at him coaxingly.

“Lady Holmes” He said firmly.

“You are a married woman with a son only four years younger than me, and you are my employer. I can’t be with you in that way.” He tried to sound confident. “I would like my shirt back, now please.” She pouted and reluctantly handed the shirt back to him.

He nearly yanked it out of her hands and threw it on.

They were both silent as he was buttoned the shirt close. It wasn’t until he finished that she broke the silence.

“If you will deprive me of your presence in my bed, will you at least escort me back to the Hall? It is getting late and the path will be dark.”

He frowned wanting nothing more then to flee but some dormant chivalrous instinct rose through him and he nodded, holding an arm out, gesturing for her to go first.

They walked in silence for a bit before she causally said.

“It’s been rather a dry summer, I guess, very little rain?” He cautiously nodded, certain this would not end well.

“It’s a pity about the garden, and the lawn looking so…” She paused searching for a word. “…lackluster. I’m sure a better Head Gardner would have been able to keep it looking pristine. I’ll have to find one.” She said, examining the trees by the side of the path.

He froze, mind racing. They had done all they could that summer to ensure that the lawn and formal gardens stayed green and beautiful, watering constantly. In fact the Hall’s lawn looked better then most of the others in this area.

He started to explain this to her when he saw the wicked twist of her lips. Oh.

“Lady Holmes, are you implying what I think you are?” He prayed no.

“If you think I am willing to trade your uncle’s job for a night with you in my bed? Then yes, I am.” She smiled cruelly.

Greg literally could not speak, horror flooding his system.

She dug in deeper. “And he’s so getting on in years, it would be a shame if he lost his position and was let go without a reference. And what would his wife do? They would have to move and where would they go?” He raised a hand to stop her.

“If I do this, if I sleep with you, he will keep his job?” His shivers were not from the chill in the air.

“You make it sound so awful, here I am, offering you a chance to spend the night bedding a beautiful and experienced woman, and you act as if I was offering to geld you. Most young men in your position would jump on the opportunity.”

“Just tonight? One night only?” He wanted to be absolutely clear.

“Just tonight. One night.” She echoed him.

He swallowed. “What about your husband?”

Fury covered her face for a second, the first truly deep emotion he had seen from her.

“Sod my husband!” She shouted, waving her arms wildly in the air. “Do you know why he wanted to spend time in Paris without me? So he could sleep with his French whore without worrying about me finding out. He thinks I don’t know about all the business trips that aren’t business trips or that I can’t smell her cheap perfume on him as he climbs into our bed, fresh from hers.” She stopped abruptly and seemed to pull into herself. Her arms came down and she breathed deeply several time.

“So, sod my fucking husband.” She said quietly and turned to continued down the path.

Greg followed her at a distance until they were within sight of the Hall.

“Since you seem to need this spelled out plainly for you, if you have sex with me tonight your uncle keeps his job. If you don’t, your uncle and his wife will get tossed out on their ears first thing in the morning.” She paused at the fork in the path, one path leading to the Hall and the other to his Uncle’s house.

Greg struggled to find his voice. “This is extortion.”

She shrugged. “Call it what you will. If you are not in my room by ten, I will assume that you are not coming and will proceed accordingly.” She spun around and sauntered down the path.

“You have a few hours to think about it.” She tossed over her shoulder.

He stood staring down the path for what seemed like forever, a lead ball forming in his stomach. His uncle loved this job, loved the small cottage where he and his wife lived. And he was getting on in years. He wouldn’t be able to find another job like this.

Greg took a deep breath and let it whistle through his teeth. He knew what he had to do. And she was right. She was a beautiful and desirable woman, it didn’t have to be as big a deal as he was making it out to be. And it was just for one night. He could do this. He nodded determined, pasted a smile on his face and headed down the path to the house where he could hear his aunt calling for him.

Part 2:

Later that night, Greg stood in front of Lady Holmes’ bedroom, feeling sick to his stomach. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to knock on the door, didn’t want her to answer, to invite him in. But he raised his hand up anyway and knocked gently on the door, bile slushing up his throat.

“Come in.”

Greg swallowed and pushed the door open. The room was dark with a single lit shining from the right side of the bed. He forced himself to ignore the rest of the room and just focus in the reclining nude figure lying on top the bed sheets. She had let down her hair and it spread on the pillow like a halo around her head, making her look angelic. He knew better. One arm was bent just over her head and the other rested on her stomach right below her breasts. There was no attempt at modesty here, no fumbled covering of sensitive areas, just her, on display. He jerked his eyes back to her face.

She made a show of glancing at the clock on the small table next to the bed. It showed the time as being five to ten.

“Cutting it a little close, my darling?” He flinched.

“I’m here, my lady.” He forced out but back peddled when he saw her frown.

“Tessa.” He added and watched a smile curve onto her face. It was a horrid display of gums and teeth but he forced himself to smile back anyway.

He had thought her beautiful earlier, now he could barely stand to look at her.

“Well go on, darling. We can’t do a thing with you all covered up. Strip for me.” She made a shooing motion with her hand.

He hesitated and she made an abrupt motion with her hand. “If you won’t do the smallest thing then you can leave, there is the door. Just be prepared for the consequences.” She snarled, angelic façade gone.

He stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from side to side before sighing and bringing his hands to his shirt buttons.

“Go a little more slowly, I want to savor you.” She purred sitting up a little.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his fingers slowly undo each button. He could do this. He slid the shirt off, the left sleeve then the right and placed the shirt on a chair by the door. His hands moved to his belt buckle, gripping the leather tight before releasing it and slowing unclasping the belt. His button fly was next, fingers trailing down until he could push his trousers and pants down as one and step out of them.

“There, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” She cooed at him, propped up on the pillows, a predatory gleam in her eyes.

Tears of anger and frustration leaked for the corners of his eyes. He brushed them away just in time to see her gestured to the bed beside her.

“Now come here. Have you done this before?” Had he been forced to have sex with a woman before? No, not really. He some how didn’t think that was the answer she was looking for.

He shook his head and swallowed as she grinned widely teeth shining. “I’ll show you. I’ll teach all the ways of pleasing a woman. Now come here.” She gestured again and he went.

Part 3:

It wasn’t until after, when it was done, that Greg realized he hadn’t worn a condom. He turned to the woman lying stated next to him and mentioned it. She rolled over and waved his concern away.

“I’m on birth control, darling, besides it’s not my optimal time of my cycle. I am not going to get pregnant.” She lit a cigarette and blew a ring of smoke towards his face.

“You weren’t half bad, darling, a little more practice and you could become quite the lover. I have half a mind to have you back in my bed.” She raked a hand through his hair, a parody of affection.

Greg, who had been curled on his side, facing the large window and watching for dawn froze for a second before slowly rolling over to face her.

“You said one night.” He kept his panic internal, fighting to keep it from showing. He couldn’t do this again. He felt dirty and used and he had hated every second, every kiss, every caress, every moment spent in this woman’s company.

She frowned, anger in her eyes “So I did. I gave you a night of pleasure and invite you back and all you can say is one night? Wasn’t it good for you?”

Greg’s silence was answer enough.

She sat up, slammed the cigarette down into an ashtray and gestured to the door. “The night is over. Get out.” She pointed to the door.

She shouted again when she felt he wasn’t moving fast enough. “Get out, just get out. You can dress in the hallway.”

Greg grabbed his clothes, relief momentarily overwhelming the negative feeling that threaten to drown him. He did not look back at her as he shut the door behind him.

A loud crash echoed from behind the door, the sound of a ceramic something or other hitting the closed door behind him. He took that as a sign and ran. He didn’t stop to pull his clothes on until he reached the formal gardens outside.

What was he going to do now? There was only one thing he could do. He straightened up and started mentally planning an excuse to tell his uncle for wanting to go home early. As he left the garden, a chill worked its way down his back. He did not turn around to check the windows for her but instead walked more quickly until he was out of sight of the house. He knew one way or another that he would never return to the Hall.

 

Part 4:

It had been two month since she had forced that young man into her bed. Two month since he had left, very suddenly with no word as to why he didn’t want to work the last two weeks. She would not let herself feel guilty. She did him a favor, anyway, taught him how to please a woman, gave him his first sexual experience. He should have been grateful she had bothered with him at all instead of fleeing from her bed the moment he could.

She leaned her forehead against the glass of the window she was staring out of, waiting. No, she had behaved horribly and she had no excuse. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known that Marcus kept a mistress in Paris and had for the last ten years. But the combination of being sent home like an errant child in front of her own son and being separated from her son had plunged her into spiral of depression and self doubt. But it was still no excuse.

If she closed her eyes for long enough, he could see his eyes, dead except for the moment she said he could go and the relief made his soft brown eyes go warm again. God, she hated herself. She hated herself for forcing Greg, she hated herself for still loving Marcus all these years and for letting him into her bed even though she knew he had been in bed with his mistress the next before returning to England and her, she hated herself for what she was about to do.

“Tessa?” Marcus’s voice broke through her litany of self hatred.

In had been six weeks since her husband and son had returned from France. She had met them at the door with big smiles and saying how much she had missed them. She had been liberal with her hugs and kisses and that night, had cried after Marcus had made love to her.

“Fredricks said you were looking for me?” He stepped further into the room coming almost to her side.

She swallowed tightly and just said it. “I’m pregnant.” She watched as emotions flew across his face, joy followed by suspicion and placed a hand over her abdomen.

“Is it mine?” He asked, voice neutral. He had been pushing her for another child but it just hadn’t happened, until now.

“I don’t know” She lied.

It wasn’t. She was almost entirely sure that it was Greg’s but if there was a small chance that it could be Marcus’s then he would accept it. It was willful ignorance, at its best, a staple of English nobility.

He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t have a leg to stand on, I suppose.” He moved closer to stare out the window with her.

They stood in silence watching their son, Mycroft, read under a formal hedge. Telling Greg about the baby would ruin his life more then it all ready was. He didn’t need to know. He would be suspicious enough when he found out that an anonymous benefactor had donated enough money so that he and a few other less fortunate students would have all their schooling, room and board, paid for. But he wouldn’t ask and he wouldn’t want to see her again to confirm if he was right. She wouldn’t say anything. Instead she was going to raise this child with love and cherish it as she did Mycroft, and maybe someday she would be able to atone for the damage she had caused.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 4 wrote itself, well most of this fic did but I fought with 4. I didn't want to lessen what Greg had gone through by giving Tessa a chance to defend herself but she wouldn't shut up. It was supposed to be just her telling her husband about the baby and him shrugging it off but she demanded to explain herself. Please let me know if this ending works or if I should go back to the original plan.


End file.
